


Sympathy for the Devil

by LikeTheColor



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Flashbacks, Gen, Recovery, dark and twisty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeTheColor/pseuds/LikeTheColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid knows he has a problem but knowing and doing something about it are two completely different things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Criminal Minds story. The usual disclaimers apply. Don't know, don't own. This is based off one of my favorite story lines in the series. I've set it to start at the end of "Jones". Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

  ** _"When you can stop, you don't want to and when you want to stop, you can't" -_ Luke Davies**

* * *

 

Spencer Reid sat quietly, alone, listening to his friend Ethan play the piano in a barely lit lounge. He had been sitting there for almost forty five minutes thinking about the past few weeks. The last injection was wearing off and he was glad he had a glass of whiskey to take the edge off. He normally didn't drink liquor but he felt this occasion called for it. Ethan's words kept running through his head. Did the rest of his colleagues know? He had a feeling they suspected but he didn't think any of them would actually confront him.

His eyes shifted to the seat next to him as he watched a man sit down. It was Jason Gideon. He wasn't surprised. Spencer paused a moment before speaking.

"How did you find me?" he asked, his voice rasping a bit.

"You're not all that hard to profile." Spencer could feel Gideon looking at him. He stared at his hands a moment and he half heard Gideon make a comment on Ethan's music. He knew what was coming next. He had intentionally ignored Emily's calls and missed the flight. He just couldn't go. The nightmares were still plaguing him. He felt drained, exhausted and nervous nearly all the time now. He needed to sleep and the only thing that let him, he had to be alone to do. He inhaled then spoke.

"I missed that plane on purpose." That was the first time he admitted it out loud.

"I know." Gideon's voice had a sad tone to it. It made Spencer feel a pang of guilt for lying to his friend. He couldn't say it yet. He was still in a state of denial that he had a problem. His intellect was looking at the logical aspect of the situation. He knew the statistics and signs of addiction but the emotional part of his brain kept telling him to ignore it. That he could control it. He felt like he had two people raging inside his brain. He thought of the simplest way to satisfy Gideon's expectant body language.

"I'm struggling." Spencer saw Gideon shift in his chair and sigh.

"Well, anyone who has been what you've been through recently...would." Spencer stared at his hands again. He felt like he owed Gideon more of an explanation. His mind raced with thoughts and reasons. Anything he could say to try and verbalize what he was feeling. For a moment, he wished it was something he could recite from a book or a mathematics equation that had a clear process to the solution. He found himself telling Gideon that this job, the FBI, is all he has known. There had been no other viable option for him in his mind.

He paused, falling silent again. Spencer had seen some disturbing and graphic things in his short career and normally the analysis and science of it all made it bearable. It made it worth it, especially when they were able to save someone but being taken, tortured...it was something he was completely unprepared for. It made him doubt everything he had done in his life up to that point. What if he was just as weak as he was told by his torturer? It was foggy but he remembered crying, feeling helpless and foolish for getting himself into that situation.

He looked at Gideon and listened to him talk about what the job was to him. How it affected him. Spencer's mind was still filled with doubt. He couldn't tell Gideon this so he said what he thought Gideon wanted to hear.

"I'll never miss another flight again." They looked at each other for a moment then sat in silence, in their own thoughts, for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Spencer sat curled up in a seat on the the jet the Behavioral Analysis Unit used for transport to their cases. They were home bound for Quantico, Virginia. Spencer glanced at the other members of the team. Gideon was writing in his notebook next to Aaron Hotchner who was staring intently at his phone, typing furiously and stopping every so often to smile. Emily Prentiss and Jennifer Jareau were chatting in the seats across from Gideon and Hotch. Spencer's eyes drifted to Derek Morgan. He was listening to what Spencer assumed was music on his head phones. His eyes were closed and his fingers tapped out the beat on his thigh. He thought about Morgan's hints over the last weeks to get him to talk. It usually was easy for Spencer to talk to him. Morgan had a way of listening to his, at times, confusing incomplete thoughts and offering some insight on them. He appreciated it but for some reason, he couldn't even find words, confusing or not, to really describe how he was feeling.

Morgan opened his eyes and Spencer quickly looked away to avoid eye contact. He redirected his focus to the dark clouds outside his window, crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around himself. If he sat like that maybe he could fold in on himself and disappear. He watched the clouds passing by his window. It was almost completely dark outside and the last rays of sun cast an eerie red back glow on some of them.

"What are you thinking about?" The unexpected sound of Morgan's voice made Spencer jump and he felt his stomach drop. Morgan had taken the seat across from him and was leaning forward with his elbows balanced on his knees. He stared at Spencer waiting for an answer.

"Nothing really." Morgan shook his head slightly, one side of his mouth twisting up at the corner. "What?" Spencer tried his best to look confused.

"Seriously, kid? That is the most bogus response. You never just think about nothing. Your mind is always going a hundred miles per hour. What's been up with you lately?" Spencer could feel Morgan's eyes on him. He returned to staring out the window. It was easier to lie if he wasn't looking him.

"Just tired." It was sort of the truth. Spencer hoped his short answers would dissuade Morgan from more conversation. It didn't.

"Look, I know something is up with you. I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk. You know that, right?" Spencer sat silent. Morgan continued. " Reid, I'm worried about you. We all are. What can we do to help?"

Spencer turned to look at him. He gave a small tight lipped smile.

"Thanks, Morgan. Your worry is misplaced though. I'll be okay. I'm okay." The last part of his sentence sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Morgan. Morgan sat back in his seat.

"I hope that's true."

* * *

It was well past midnight when Spencer finally arrived home. The jingling of his keys echoed in the empty apartment and the sound of the door closing seemed too loud to him. He stood in the dark foyer for a moment, eyes closed, taking in the silence around him.

He leaned over and flipped on a lamp that was on a desk near his front door. It filled most of his apartment with a soft yellow light. He looked at the weeks worth of mail strewn around the lamp. He really should open it but he just didn't want to.

His messenger bag began to feel heavy across his shoulder and he could feel a dull ache start there and radiate up his neck to the base of his skull. He lifted the strap over his head and let the bag fall to the floor with a heavy thud. It was filled with paperwork he needed to read before tomorrow's briefing. He needed to be back at the office by eight o' clock the next morning. He felt overwhelmed thinking about it. He crouched down and opened the bag and removed a folder. He set it on top of the desk and then returned his hand to the messenger bag. he blindly felt around for the smooth glass of the vial he had hidden in the side pocket. He felt it cool against his hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

Spencer stood up, grabbed the folder and made his way to the couch. He set the vial down on the wooden coffee table and let himself sink into the couch. He turned on a second lamp that was positioned next to him on an end table. He pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged while he laid the folder across his lap. He opened it and started to read. His eyes crossed causing the words to blur together on the page.

He brought his hand to his eyes and rubbed them, trying to get them to focus on the printed words in front of him. The type came into focus again and he resumed reading. He only read one page before he looked at the vial on the coffee table. He shook his head and tried to keep reading. His hand idly went to his cheekbone and scratched then moved to his forearm to scratch there. He suddenly felt itchy everywhere, His arms, legs...the back of his neck.

He flipped the folder shut and tossed it on the floor. He'd read it in the morning. That was one of the benefits of being able to read twenty thousand words a minute.

Spencer leaned forward and grabbed the vial from the table. He held it up above his head and watched the liquid slide from one side of the vial to the other. He pursed his lips together and reached over to open the drawer of the end table next to the couch. He felt around and grabbed one of the syringes he stashed there. He'd been surprised how easy it was to get them. He just walked into the pharmacy near his apartment and asked if they sold diabetic supplies. Six dollars and ten minutes later, they were tucked in a paper bag under his arm.

He took the cap off the syringe and stuck the needle into the mesh opening of the vial. He tipped the vial back and watched the liquid cover the end of it. He pulled the plunger back on the syringe and watched the liquid pass the numbered lines. Spencer's mind converted the measurements on the insulin syringe into milliliters. He pushed the plunger down to release any air in the barrel and then pulled it back to the amount he wanted. He had become fascinated with preparing the syringes. It was almost as exciting to him as the injection itself. it's like his brain knew that in moments everything would be better. It was as if his subconscious knew the whirlwind of thoughts and memories shrieking in his head were about to be silenced. 

He pulled the needle from the vial and used his fingers to tap any remaining air to the top. He watched a few small bubbles float there and he quickly let them escape out of the tip of the syringe. He set his syringe and vial on the coffee table and rolled his sleeve up to his mid forearm. He loosened the band on his watch and adjusted it above his wrist. He had taken to injecting there. His watch easily covered up any marks the needles left behind.

Spencer brought his arm to his mouth and used his teeth to pull the band of the watch tight. He opened and closed his hand a few times and in his peripheral vision could see the veins start to rise as they filled with blood. He grabbed the syringe from the table, lowered his arm and positioned the needed above one of the risen veins. He was too tired to care about sterilizing the area first. At first, he'd been meticulous about cleaning the top of the vial, making sure the needle never touched anything before it touched him and cleaning the injection sight after. Now, he was in such a rush to stop feeling, he skipped those steps. 

The needle bit into his skin and he inhaled sharply. Once he was sure he had it in, he pulled the plunger back and watched blood mix in with the liquid. He could feel his stomach twist in anticipation, He inhaled and exhaled slowly before pushing the plunger down and watched it all disappear into his vein.

His face felt warm and his eyelids drooped. The warm sensation started in his hands and quickly dispersed through his whole body. Then the numbness set in. At last, Spencer's mind was blank. He wasn't thinking about his mother. He wasn't thinking about Tobias Hankle or the BAU. He felt his grip loosen on the syringe and he heard the soft sound of plastic hitting the wood floor as it fell to the ground.

Spencer leaned back into the cushions of his couch and stared at the ceiling, counting the beating of his heart and listening to the sound of his own breathing. The numb feeling had moved into his head and he felt like he was floating. His last thought before nodding out was that he wished he could feel like this forever.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**_"We all get addicted to something that takes away the pain."_ \- Unknown**

* * *

 

The morning sun was shinning through the blinds and illuminated Spencer in a set of golden stripes. He furrowed his brow at the un-welcomed light and brought his hand to his head. It was pounding with such force he thought his brain would break right through his skull. Spencer opened his eyes and looked around. He was still sitting cross-legged on the couch in his clothes from the night before. The file he was reading was still on the table and the lamps were still on.

"What time is it?" He said out loud to himself and then winced at the sound of his own voice. He looked around and his eyes landed on the clock that was situated on his bookshelf. Ten after seven. Relief flooded over him. He wasn't late. Yet. He knew to get to the office on time he had to be out of there in twenty minutes.

He stood up and stretched. He rolled his head from side to side trying to loosen the muscles in his neck. His whole body felt stiff and achy. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Spencer cupped his hands under the running water and brought it to his face. The cool water felt good on his skin. He took a moment to look in the mirror. What stared back at him was a sorry sight. His eyes were rimmed with red and the dark circles around them seemed darker than usual. His features seemed more pronounced, larger and out of place on his face. He knew it was because he'd lost weight over the past weeks. 

He opened the medicine cabinet above his sink,sighing as he reached for a bottle of aspirin. He opened the bottle and shook two into his hand. He bought his hand to his mouth, shoved the pills in and dry swallowed them. The sound of the bottle hitting the shelf and the noise as the cabinet door shut made him wince again. He hoped the aspirin would kick in sooner rather than later.

Spencer stripped the previous days attire off and threw it on the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes that had been piling up for weeks. He needed to do laundry but he rationalized that until he had zero clean articles of clothing it was not a necessity. He half shuffled half jogged to his bedroom to get dressed. The pounding in his head had lessened to a more bearable degree. He pulled out his outfit for the day and quickly dressed, spraying cologne on and applying a new layer of deodorant. He gave himself a once over in the mirror that hung on his bedroom wall. He'd chosen his normal go to clothes. Tan corduroys, button down shirt, tie and a cardigan. He made sure his watch was situated correctly over his wrist so that nothing would be revealed.  The clothes hung loosely on him. It wasn't that he was into tight fitting clothes but he tried to not look sloppy and at least pick things that were semi-form fitting. This was far from it now but he felt he looked as good as he was going to for that day. 

Spencer walked back out into his living room and gathered up the file he had been reading. He hadn't woken up with enough time to finish it. He'd have to improvise in the briefing. He noticed the syringe on the floor and vial of dilaudid on the coffee table. He picked up the syringe and threw it back into the drawer of the side table. He grabbed a new one and then the vial. He flipped off the lamp and walked into his foyer. He stuffed the file into his messenger bag and then carefully hid the other items in a side pocket. He never took any while he was in the office but it had become increasingly hard not to have it when they had to leave at the drop of a hat. He felt uneasy without it near him.

Spencer tugged on his signature converse sneakers and stole a glance at his watch. Seven twenty six. He sighed. There would be no time for coffee until he got to the office. He threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder, flipped of the last light and left.

* * *

Spencer sat alone on the small commuter train he took to work every day. He had a car and could drive but driving made him nervous and he only did it when he absolutely had to, which wasn't often. He listened to the random conversations around him. A man in a business suit talking to his significant other. An elderly lady chatting with her friend about where to get the freshest vegetables. The conversations blended together with certain words and phrases standing out to him.

"... _well pull the steaks out now and they might be thawed by the time_..."

"... _I just don't think the Radcliff store has better tomatoes_..."

His ears zeroed in a conversation between a mother and her son. The boy looked to be about twelve years old. Spencer would see the fear on his face.

"I  _don't_  want to go!" The boy said pleadingly to his mom. He saw the mom sigh.

"Zack, it can't be that bad. Just ignore them. Those boys will get bored eventually." The boy, who Spencer now knew was named Zack, just shook his head.

"They don't. They call me nerd, They call me freak. Can I just stay home one day? Please?" Zack begged. His mom shook her head but didn't say anything" Zack continued. "I won't get behind. I promise! I'm already ahead in all my classes."

"Zack, you're going to school and that's that. Now stop." The mom said.

Spencer knew he was staring at them and Zack turned and caught his eye for a moment. He saw so many things that reminded him of himself at that age. Spencer wished he could tell the kid it would be okay. That once he was out of whatever grade school he was in it'd get better but he just turned his head and looked down at his hands. It made him remember all the horrible days he endured being the twelve year old prodigy in high school. The voices of his peers rang in his head. He shook his head trying to make the memories stop. Sometimes it all came rushing back in such a vivid memory he'd forget it was over a decade ago.

The digital voice calling out his stop broke his thoughts and he stood up in anticipation of getting off the train. He gave Zack one last glance before stepping out of the doors and onto the crowded train platform.

Spencer weaved and bobbed between the sea of people on the busy streets until he had made it to the office. He had five minutes to actually get inside the building and get to his department before he was officially late. He quickly scanned his badge and hurried inside. He ran to the elevator and punched in the correct floor and when the doors opened he walked into the office.

Spencer was confused for a moment when he looked around. No one was in the conference room. Morgan was at his desk chatting with Emily while Hotch and Gideon were looking over a folder in the open doorway to Hotch's office.

"Good morning, Boy Wonder!" Spencer jumped at the sound of Penelope Garcia's chirpy greeting and turned around. " Seems the case we were supposed to work on was resolved last night. I know what you're thinking. Like, when does  _that_  ever happen, right? But worry not, my favorite genius. JJ is looking through her files. Although it seems we might actually have a day where no one is being cut open or kidnapped or whatever else these deranged people do."

Spencer just stared, trying to process the fast pace of Garcia's words. He watched as her brows furrowed and she gave him a funny look.

"Not to sound all Debbie Downer or anything, but are you okay? You look like  _crap_."

"Yeah, yeah. Woke up late. No coffee." He said. Penelope nodded.

"Ah, the effects of inadequate caffeine. Well, there's plenty of coffee in the break room!"

Penelope gave him a smile and went on her way. Spencer made his way to his desk and threw his messenger bag on his chair. He felt like he could barely keep his eyes open. He headed straight to the break room for the coffee Garcia had mentioned. He grabbed one of the paper cups from the stack next to the coffee machines and filled it with about four table spoons of sugar and then added creamer on top of that. He got flack most of the time for how sugary and creamy he made his coffee but he didn't care. It tasted the best that way to him. Once he had the proper amount of sugar and creamer in the cup he poured the hot dark coffee over it. He liked watching it turn from almost black to a light brown as the creamer dissolved in it. He grabbed a stir stick and stirred the contents to ensure all the sugar dissolved and finally it was ready to drink. Spencer brought the cup to his lips and drank. It was almost too hot but he didn't mind. The burn felt kind of good in his throat. He had the first cup gone in less than a minute and was going about making his second cup when he was interrupted by Morgan.

"Damn, kid. Two cups in less than five minutes? That's impressive." Spencer kept on adding his sugar and cream and then poured the coffee again. " Reid?" Morgan said, when Spencer didn't answer. Spencer turned around to face Morgan and got another funny look similar to the one Garcia had given him earlier. He must really look like crap, he thought to himself. He made a mental note to start setting his alarm as soon as he got home so he could better prepare himself in the morning.

"So has JJ found another case or do you know what we'll be doing today?" He asked Morgan as he started on his second cup of coffee.

"Um...I...No, I don't think so. Not yet, anyway. We're just kind of catching up and waiting." Morgan said, stuttering a bit at the beginning. Morgan paused a moment. "Don't lie to me this time. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Spencer said plainly. His eyes drifted past Morgan as he planned his next move to get away. He didn't have it in him to argue and lie this morning. He slid to the side to walk around Morgan but Morgan was quick and stepped to the side as well.

"You have dark circles around your eyes which, by the way, are red as hell..."

"I always have circles under my eyes." Spencer countered but that didn't stop Morgan.

"...and I can tell you haven't showered. You've lost weight. You can barely concentrate on the job." Spencer didn't like where this conversation was going. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Sometimes, it was just a pain in the ass to be around so many profilers. So many people that could read what your mouth wasn't saying. Spencer half smiled at Morgan.

"Thanks for the profile but if you don't mind, I'd--" Morgan cut him off. Spencer brought the coffee back to his mouth since he couldn't get a word in between Morgan's lecture.

"So what is it, Reid? What are you on? The others might not want to believe it or say anything but I will."

Spencer choked on his coffee at Morgan's words. 

"What?" Spencer half squeaked, trying not to cough from choking on his coffee. " I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not on _anything_. For your information, I didn't sleep well and woke up late. What the fuck is everyone's problem?" Spencer stopped short, startled that he'd cursed.

Morgan shook his head, mostly in disbelief.

"Are you being serious right now? Come on, Reid. Hotch is at your desk right now. He's going to tell you to take time off.  I don't know who you think you're fooling. Yourself, I guess."

Spencer's mind was reeling. They all knew. They had to. He didn't want to deal with this today. Not tomorrow or even the next week. He just wanted to take an injection and make everything, and everyone, go away. He brought his hand to face and placed his thumb and middle finger on either side of his forehead, putting pressure on his temples to try and make his mind calm down.

"I don't want to get into this right now" He said point blank to Morgan. " I don't have a problem, like you all seem to think I have and if not sleeping well after being abducted and tortured is abnormal then that's just not rational thinking." He was grasping at anything to divert the attention away from the subject of his problem. He heard Morgan sigh.

"Stop building these walls and let someone in for once." Spencer just stared at Morgan then walked out of the break room. He scanned the office looking for the rest of the team. They all seemed to have scattered, except Hotch, who like Morgan had said, was waiting at his desk for him. Spencer's stomach started to turn with nerves as he got closer to his desk. Maybe he could stealth grab his messenger bag and make a get away. That possibility was unlikely. Spencer stopped when he reached his desk and looked at Hotch.

"Spencer, could you come into my office for a moment?" Hotch's voice was stern but it also had a tone of genuine concern in it. Spencer couldn't read his face. He hardly ever could. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath in.

"No." He said simply. "How long?" Morgan had already warned him what this was about. He didn't want to draw it out any longer than he had to. Hotch leaned in closer to Spencer.

"Do you really want to have this conversation out here?" He said in a more hushed tone. Spencer nodded.

"How long?" he repeated. Hotch took a step closer to him.

"Four weeks. I put it in as personal tine. You have have enough. Whatever is going on, I don't want to know. I really can't know. Please, get some help." Hotch was talking so quietly Spencer had to almost strain to hear him. Spencer stood and looked at Hotch. He saw a break in his facial expression, only for a moment but it happened. He couldn't tell if it was fear or sadness. Spencer nodded his head and started to gather up his things. Hotch reached out and put his hand on Spencer's arm. "I mean it. Please get some help." Hotch turned and made his way back to his office.

Spencer looked around the office once more before heading to the doors. The only one of his team members that he saw was Morgan standing with his arms folded, leaning against the door jamb to the break room. Even Gideon was nowhere in sight, which surprised him. He thought out of anyone in the team it would have been Gideon to seek him out and confront him.

As Spencer walked out of the building different scenarios kept playing in his head. Quit the BAU and go back and get another degree? Check into rehab? Did he even  _need_  rehab? Just throw the vials and out and stop completely? For once in his life, he didn't know what to do. He just felt lost. Lost and embarrassed that his boss had to tell him to leave. The one thing he did know was that he was going to go home and forget, whether it was for last time or just another notch on the stick of many times.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

_**"Destroy what destroys you." -** _ **Against All Humanity**

* * *

Spencer exited the office ignoring the questioning looks from the attendants at the front desk who had only seen him walk in minutes prior. He walked hurriedly past them shoving his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and looking at the floor. He made two stops before returning to his home. The first stop was for more coffee before getting back on the commuter train. He had to wait almost thirty minutes for his train home to arrive on the platform and in that time had downed the entire large coffee he ordered. His mind was buzzing with the caffeine but he finally felt more awake. He kept running the conversation between him and Morgan through his mind. It left him rattled and feeling unsettled, like he couldn't stand still. His skin felt prickly with nerves almost like it was crawling.

The second stop he made was the convenience store down the street from his apartment. The bell hooked to the door made a hollow pitiful ding as he walked in. He looked at the few patrons that occupied the aisles as he walked up to the counter. The man behind it appeared to be middle aged and had on a worn flannel shirt with jeans. The lines around his eyes and mouth made him look older than he probably was.

"What ya need?" The man asked, placing both hands on the counter and waiting for Spencer's reply. Spencer felt awkward and out of place in the store. He glanced at the rows of liquor behind the man before deciding that it would all probably taste the same.

"Um, a fifth of Jack Daniels please?" he said almost in a questioning manner. The man chuckled a bit then grabbed the bottle from the shelf behind him. He set it down in front of him.

"Anything else?" The man asked him. Spencer hesitated a moment. 

"A pack of Marlboros." The man laughed out loud this time.

"You're killing me, kid. You want reds, lights, menthol, non-menthol, shorts, one hundreds?" Spencer could feel his face getting hot. What the fuck was he trying to do?  _He_  didn't even know. He just wanted enough to make sure he could forget this terrible day. The man held up one hand. "I got ya. Marlboro mediums, short. They'll go good with the Jack and you'll need this too." The man grabbed a lighter from the display and tossed it next to the liquor and cigarettes. "That'll be thirty-six seventy eight."

Spencer grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and put two twenties on the counter. He watched as the man bagged his items and counted out the change. He handed it to Spencer who shoved it in his pocket and the man slid the brown paper bag toward him. Spencer pursed his lips together, nodded then grabbed the bag and walked out of the store.

He held the bag close to him feeling guilty for his purchase. He drank occasionally but he had never smoked. His mother had smoked and he recalled the ashy, burning scent that seemed to always envelope her. It drifted across him on the days she decided to stay in bed all day and the only interaction he got from her was reading passages from her favorite author's literary works. It had been am impulse addition to the liquor.

When Spencer opened the door to his apartment he was greeted with the same mess as yesterday. The strewn mail. The dirty clothes. The coffee mugs piled on his kitchen counter waiting to be washed. He rarely ever made anything to eat in his apartment. He wasn't much of a cook and these days he never really felt like eating, It was just easier to order take out.

He walked over to his couch and sat down. He removed the liquor from the bag and placed it on the coffee table. He placed the pack of cigarettes next to it with the lighter on top. Lastly, he removed the vial from his messenger bag along with the syringe and placed it upon the table too. He looked at everything for a minute then sighed.

Spencer stood up and walked into his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off, flung off his attire and threw it on the floor. He opened a drawer to his dresser and rooted around until he found a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. He shrugged them on and found one of the only contemporary pieces of clothing he owned, It was a thin black zip up hooded sweatshirt with white drawstrings. Morgan had forced him to buy it, saying that he dressed like a 1950's professor and needed at least one piece of fashionable clothing. He hated to admit it but it was comfortable and he liked the way it looked on his thin frame.

From there he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and carried it into his living room. He set the glass next to the bottle of liquor then sat on his couch. His thoughts drifted to Hotch's words.  _Get some help_. Spencer didn't even know where to start. He'd always figured he'd be crazy by now, like his mother. Maybe that's what this was. Studies said substance abuse was an indicator of a mental illness but Spencer still wasn't certain he even had a problem. His problems where the fact he couldn't get the nightmares to go away. The smell of the building he sat tied up in. The sound of his captors voice ringing in his ears. Sights. Smells. Images. Sometimes nothing at all would send him reeling back into the moment. He was smart enough to know it was a flashback. Just like he was smart enough to know what to say to the psychiatrist and therapist during his mandatory evaluation to be allowed to go back to work. He had been prescribed an anxiety medication which he filled diligently but had never taken. It sat in his medicine cabinet unopened and untouched. He thought the dilaudid did a much better job than any pill could do. He figured if it got him through days of torture, it would get him through the days after.

Spencer leaned forward and opened the fifth of whiskey. He poured what he figured to be about four ounces into the glass then recapped the bottle. He sipped on the liquor and it burned his throat going down but created a warm sensation in his stomach that he liked. He drank it rather fast until the contents of the glass were gone. He could feel his body start to relax as the alcohol took effect. He filled the glass again but this time sipped it at a slower pace. He sat in the silence for awhile then decided it was too quiet. If it got too quiet he would start to think about things. When he thought about things, his mind took him to places he'd rather not visit.

Spencer stood and walked over to his book case. He stumbled a little but made it. He had a small CD player perched on one of the shelves and a collection of discs stacked neatly next to it. He slid his fingers across the spines of the CD cases until he stopped on one labeled Vivialdi Concertos. It sounded good to him. He liked the intricate melodies Vivaldi wrote and most of his pieces were written in minor keys. He felt this would suit his mood perfectly. He slid the case from it's place, opened it and put the disc in the player. He pressed play and the sound of music filled his apartment. He closed his eyes for a moment taking in the dueling violins playing their story.

Spencer stood next to the bookcase, sipping his drink and looking out the window. He knew he was drunk at this point but that's what he wanted. He smiled and laughed to himself. Drunk before noon on a weekday. His thoughts drifted back to his mother.

* * *

_"Spencer, bring me my pack of cigarettes please." She was having one of her episodes. She couldn't tell him what day of the week it was and she hadn't been out of bed for more than three or four hours for days. Spencer diligently brought her what she asked for. He was ten, maybe eleven at the time. He stared at her and she stared back at him with a glazed look in her eyes as she took the cigarettes from him._

_"Six minutes." He said, as looked at her and the empty alcohol bottles on her nightstand next to the over flowing ashtray. She barely looked up as she lit a cigarette from the pack._

_"What, baby?" She half mumbled. Spencer sighed._

_"Statistics say that for every cigarette you smoke it takes six minutes off your life." He clarified. "That's six minutes less I get to spend with you."_

* * *

The glass was empty again but Spencer decided to wait awhile before filling it back up. He was enjoying the light headed feeling and didn't want to end it too soon.He wast starting to forget the embarrassing events that took place in the office. He looked at the pack of cigarettes on the table. When he was in college, his classmate told him it enhanced drinking and had offered him one plenty of times but he always turned it down. He was sixteen at the time.

He walked back over to the table, set his glass down and picked up the pack. He removed the cellophane wrapping and opened the cardboard top. He looked at the twenty cigarettes lined up neatly in their box. He removed one and tossed the pack back on the coffee table. After picking up the lighter, he walked over to one of the windows and opened it. With the window open he was able to sit on the ledge. The sound of violins, cellos and the harpsichord still surrounded him. He brought the cigarette to his mouth and struck the lighter. He watched the flame for a moment before bringing it to the end of the cigarette. He inhaled, watching the end light up in a fiery red color. As the smoke filled his lungs, he felt the urge to cough and he did for almost a minute straight. It took him a few drags but he finally was able to hit it without his lungs feeling like they were going to explode.

The nicotine was a different kind of buzz. He felt it in his head and his fingers. He watched the wispy smoke disperse in the air and travel out of the window. He could understand why people enjoyed smoking. The smell reminded him of his mother and for some reason, this brought a sense of comfort to him. It was something familiar.

He sat on the window ledge, finished the cigarette and snuffed it out on the outside ledge. He looked down to the street below to make sure there were no pedestrians then let the butt fall to the ground outside. He closed the window and made his way back to the coffee table. He poured himself more of the whiskey and downed it in one gulp.

Spencer went back to the couch and as he sat, it was Morgan's voice that echoed in his head. _Stop building these walls and let someone in for once_. He couldn't. If he did, they would run for sure. Hankle's voice replaced Morgan's. _Is that a confession?_  Spencer shook his head trying to make it stop. He reached for the vial and syringe. He was getting efficient at filling the syringe and injecting it. It was only a matter of minutes and it was over. His head was nodding and he was floating. His mind was blank. Just like he wanted.

* * *

Spencer was jolted awake by the sound of knocking on his door. He tried sitting up but faltered and fell back into the couch. He looked around disoriented. What time was it? The apartment was silent, except for the persistent knocking on his door. He tried to get his eyes to focus on his watch. It was a little after noon. He had only been out maybe an hour or so. This time a voice drifted through the door.

"Reid! It's Morgan. Are you in there?"

Panic set in and Spencer tried standing but it was a clumsy effort due to the dilaudid and whiskey. He stumbled forward crashing into the coffee table. The empty glass along with the glass liquor bottle made a loud racket and the pounding on the door increased.

"Reid? If you don't open this door, I'm picking the lock and you know I can do it."

"G-give me a minute!" Spencer responded hoarsely. He grabbed at the items on his coffee table and threw them into the side table drawer. More stumbling. More crashing into things. The whiskey and cigarettes were still on the table and he was going for them next.

"I'm picking the lock." was the next thing he heard Morgan say.

"Fuck it." Spencer muttered to himself. He was visibly drunk and it didn't matter if Morgan saw the liquor or not at this point. He started making his way to the door, silently cursing in his head that there was nothing to hold on to on the way. "I'm coming!" He yelled as he heard the handle rattling. He made it to the door and leaned against the wall. He struggled to turn the dead bolt and clumsily grabbed at the door knob until it turned and he heard it click. He watched as Morgan flung the door open. Spencer continued to lean against the wall. The room was starting to spin and he felt like if he tried to move the floor just might fall out from under him.

"What the hell?" Morgan said as he looked at Spencer. Spencer closed his eyes.

"Why are you here?" He could tell his speech was slurred. Great, he thought to himself. This is going to be just as good as this morning was.

"Are you drunk?" was Morgan's reply. Spencer opened one eye to look at him. He just wanted to lay down. The dilaudid was still making his want to nod out and the whiskey intensified it. "Never mind. Can you make it to the couch?"

"I don't know." Spencer answered truthfully. He pushed himself up from the wall and tried to walk but he could feel himself falling. He closed his eyes, anticipating the impact from hitting the floor but instead he felt two hands grab at his arms and pull him back into an upright position.

"Jesus Christ, Spencer. Are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning? You reek, man." Morgan was guiding him to toward the couch, still holding onto him and having to use his body as a means to keep Spencer from falling a couple of times. After what seemed like an eternity, Spencer felt the comfort of his couch under him. He leaned to the side and lifted his legs up onto the cushions next to him. He reached out, trying to find one of the couch pillows to stick under his head. He didn't find it but he felt his head being lifted and when it was set back down, it was on a pillow.

"Thanks." He mumbled. Now that he was laying down. He took the chance of opening his eyes and prayed the room had stopped moving. He saw Morgan staring at the bottle of liquor on the coffee table. Morgan looked at Spencer.

"Did you drink all of this today?" He asked, his eyes widening. "and you're smoking now?"

"Yeah, I guess." Spencer said. Morgan perched himself on the coffee table and leaned in toward Spencer.

"You guess? Reid, there is almost two thirds of that fifth gone. Do you realize how much that is?"

Spencer just laid still. Had he really drank that much? He couldn't remember. He though he'd had five, maybe six shots worth.

"I don't know, Derek. I just was drinking and then you were knocking and I, I don't remember." He watched Morgan. Morgan was sitting with one hand holding his head.

"I've been trying to call all morning to check on you. I decided to come here on lunch when you didn't answer. It's a good thing I did." Spencer watched Morgan reach for his left pants pocket, then the other pocket. He could see irritation cross his face. "I must've left my cell in the car. Where's yours? You can't be left alone right now. I don't want you falling and knocking yourself out or throwing up and choking or whatever the hell you might do. I need to call Hotch and let him know I won't be back in today."

Spencer tried to shrug. The movement made his head spin again.

"It's here somewhere." He managed to mumble out. He heard Morgan sigh and could hear him stand. He heard some footsteps as he walked around the apartment. Then he heard the sound of the drawer opening next to his head. Spencer felt his body go cold and he tried to fling himself up. As he tried to focus his eyes, he saw Morgan standing there with the drawer open staring inside it. Spencer knew what he was staring at. He watched Morgan shut the drawer then open it again.

"Damn." Morgan said quietly to himself. Spencer could feel the blood rushing to his head and he tried to stand but then the room spun around him. He felt the sensation of falling and hitting something. Then nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Here is the next installment of angsty-drama goodness. ^_^ Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and given me kudos. You guys rock. Enjoy!

* * *

**_"How low can you go before you can't turn around?"_ \- Against Me!**

* * *

There was a sound like rushing water in Spencer's ears when he become conscious again. He was on his back on the floor, vaguely aware of two hands holding his head. He opened his eyes and was looking up at Morgan. Morgan's lips were moving but Spencer couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Time seemed to be in slow motion. He did pick up on the fact that Morgan looked freaked out. What had happened? Why was he on the floor? He tried to move but Morgan's grip tightened on him. The sound in his ears was lessening and the other agent's voice was starting to fade in.

"Don't move. You hit your head. Just lay still, okay?" His voice was calm and controlled, like how they'd been taught to talk to victims. Spencer pushed the thought from his head. He wasn't a victim. He had control.

He felt the sensation of something warm running down the side of his face as he became aware of the throbbing ache that encompassed his right eye. Spencer tried to control the panic rising in him.  He was trying to remember why he had stood up in the first place. He moved his eyes around, trying to look beyond Morgan and around the apartment. He could see the opened drawer just beyond his friend and he started to panic all over again. He started to resist the grip Morgan had on him and began to maneuver himself so he could sit up.

"Hey, hey. Spencer, calm down." It was Morgan again. "Look at me." Spencer tried to look anywhere but at him as the grip on him tightened and kept him from sitting up. "Look at me, Reid." Spencer finally gave in and stared up at him. This day is just getting better and better, he thought cynically. He felt the burn of tears start in his eyes and he swallowed hard, trying to get the feeling to go away. He was relieved someone finally knew and he was _terrified_  someone finally knew. He realized Morgan was talking again.

"We'll figure this out but right now I need you to not move. Paramedics are on their way."

"What happened?" Spencer managed to choke out. He words were still slurred and the pain in his head was making him nauseous, or maybe it was the liquor or the dilaudid. He didn't know. He could hear sirens in the background.

"You passed out and fell into the table. You stopped breathing for a minute." Morgan told him as he seemed to wince at the last sentence. The sirens were louder now and he figured the paramedics were almost there. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. It was getting harder to keep them open. If he could just rest for a moment...

"Reid!" The loud sound jolted him awake and he felt himself take a gasping breath. Had he stopped breathing again? He concentrated on taking breaths in and fighting the dizziness that made him want to close his eyes. Every time he was on the cusp of giving in, the loud sound of Derek's voice jolted him out of the fog. The next thing he was aware of was the sound of the door opening and someone yelling but it was mixed in with the sound of Morgan calling his name. He heard furniture being pushed around then suddenly felt hands on him. He tried to figure out what was happening but he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

" _...large bore IV...I don't know how much...positive loss of consciousness...shallow resp.._." Words swirled around Spencer's head and he tried to make sense of who was saying them and what they were saying. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was able to focus them. He could see two paramedics standing over him, working quickly but accurately. He knew he had a neck collar on when he tried to move his head and couldn't. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morgan standing behind the paramedics, arms folded, watching them work on him.

His mind was starting to clear and Spencer knew if he had any chance of staying in the FBI, he couldn't let himself be taken to a hospital. It might already be too late for all he knew. He wanted as little of this mishap documented as possible.

"Stop." He called out, bringing his hand to the neck collar and grasping at the clasps that held it closed. One of the paramedics reached for his hand and pulled it back. Spencer tried twisting it out of his grip.

"Sir, you need to lay still." The paramedic said to him. Spencer shook his head as best as possible. He could feel the buzz of adrenaline start and it was becoming much easier to speak and move.

"I don't need any medical attention. I want to refuse medical attention." He was still trying to free his hand. Once it was, he hurriedly reached over to start removing the IV in his other arm. He jumped slightly at the sharp pain as he ripped it out, tape and all. Now he had both paramedics holding his hands down.

" _Stop_. I don't need this." He said as he struggled to free himself again from the hands holding him down. It was as if a fight or flight response had taken over him and if he couldn't run, he was going to fight.

"Sir, I need you to stay still. We will restrain you if you don't cooperate." The same paramedic told him. The other was busy holding a gauze pad to the now bleeding site where the IV had been. "You may have a head injury and are showing signs of alcohol poisoning. We need to transport you to a hospital for evaluation."

"No, I'm not going." Spencer began. " I want to refuse-" Morgan cut him off. Spencer hadn't seen him move but now he was kneeling and leaning over him.

"Reid, you're going. You probably have a concussion at the very least.  _You stopped breathing_."

Spencer felt a wave of guilt knot up in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen. Why did he have to answer the door? Why did Morgan have to show up? This would all be fine if he had just been left alone. He just couldn't let them take him anywhere.

"I'm feeling much better now. This isn't necessary. I want to refuse medical attention." Spencer repeated. He watched Morgan close his eyes and shake his head. He tried not to care.

"Sir, you do understand by refusing medical attention you are going against what is best advised for your health?" Spencer's eyes darted to the paramedic. He heard Morgan start to protest.

"Wait, you're not going to just let him stay here, are you?"

"Under state law, if a victim is conscious and refusing treatment, we legally cannot take them against their will. Unless they are a clear danger to themselves or others." The paramedic said to Morgan. Spencer bit his bottom lip as he listened. There that word was again. _Victim_. 

"He is!" Morgan yelled at the same time Spencer piped up.

"I'm _not_!"

The paramedics started to remove the neck brace from Spencer. Spencer brought his hand to his neck and rubbed it before starting to sit up with the assisatnce of the paramedics. He felt light headed for a moment but it passed after a moment. Once he was up, he turned his head from side to side, gently testing to see if it hurt. It ached but he was pleasantly surprised it didn't hurt more. He stole a side glance at Morgan who was standing off to the side with his brows creased in a scowl. Spencer looked back at the paramedics.

"I need to ask you a few questions ad do a standard exam before we can leave." He said, looking between Spencer and Morgan, a slight tone of trepidation in his voice. Morgan looked away fixing his eyes somewhere on the wall behind Spencer. "Let us help you over here to the couch." Spencer nodded and let the paramedics help him up and walk the few steps to the couch. Once he was seated, Spencer looked at the paramedic.

"Alright. Go ahead." Spencer said, licking his dry lips and trying to control his speech so make sure he didn't slur any words. It took about ten minutes of having to follow a light with his eyes and the paramedic feeling around his neck and head before everything seemed to check out as normal. Spencer watched as the paramedic stood and started reading from a clipboard.

"Okay, the exam was normal. Just a few more questions. Are you feeling like you want to hurt yourself or others?" He said in a clinical rehearsed tone.

"No. Not at all." Spencer told him. It was true. He didn't want to hurt himself. He just wanted to forget and make all the shit stop.

"Are you hearing or seeing any voices or images that you think may not be real?" That questions threw Spencer for a minute. Was hearing and seeing Hankle not normal? No, it wasn't but he wasn't ready to admit that.

"No." Spencer said, bringing his hand to his eye to rub it, trying to soothe the throbbing. "I just drank too much. I'm sorry you guys were dragged out here." He snuck a glance at Morgan, who just stood stone faced watching the scene before him. Spencer was lying through his teeth and he knew Morgan knew it. The paramedic nodded and the other started to pack up the gear they had spread around them. Spencer sat in a moment of shock. He wasn't being dragged to the hospital. He wasn't going to have blood tests run that would show what he had been doing. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he finally felt like he could breathe again.

The paramedics handed him paperwork to fill out and he lied on most of it and hoped that it wouldn't filter back to the bureau. His eyes scanned the pages, reading it quickly to see what had been written and while he scanned over phrases like loss of consciousness, acute alcohol intoxication, possible concussion and confusion, the words overdose or narcotic weren't on the paperwork.

Spencer sat on the couch while he watched the paramedics talk to Morgan. He heard bits and pieces of what they were saying and from that he gathered that they wanted someone to stay with him for the next twenty four hours to make sure he didn't start acting funny because of his supposed head injury. It seemed like hours but was only a matter of minutes before the apartment was empty except for him and Morgan. Spencer couldn't quite read the expression on his face. He thought he saw concern but it could have been annoyance. He looked around the apartment. The coffee table was still askew from being pushed out of the way and he saw a faint trace of blood on the corner where he must have hit his head. He felt the pressure of someone sitting next to him. Spencer couldn't bring himself to look at him. He'd already caused too much commotion for one day.

"That was stupid, you know." Morgan said quietly. "You probably do have a concussion."

Spencer sat silent, not knowing what to say. His head was starting to feel clearer and he attributed it to whatever saline had been pumped into his veins. He moved his eyes to the end table and saw the drawer was closed. He wanted to know how much had been said when the paramedics were called but he wasn't about to ask.

"I'm not leaving." was the next thing Spencer heard from Morgan. Spencer sighed. He could see the the pack of cigarettes still on the table and oddly, he craved one with the hope it would calm him down. He stood up and Morgan jumped up along with him.

"Reid?" he said, hesitantly. Spencer ignored him and slowly walked toward the coffee table, only wobbling once. "Reid, what are you doing?"

Spencer grabbed the pack and pulled one out. The lighter was laying on the floor and he bent over to pick it up. Blood rushed to his head and for a moment, he was light headed. He knew Morgan was still near him, probably ready to catch him if he fell or stumbled or whatever.

Spencer struggled to open the window and after a couple attempts he felt Morgan behind him and watched as arms extended around him and lifted the pane open.

"Thanks." Spencer mumbled as he lit the cigarette and leaned against the wall next to the open window. Morgan stood across from him. Spencer could sense that he wanted to talk but he just couldn't. His brain was still trying to process everything and he didn't know where to begin.

"So..." Morgan began but Spencer cut him off.

"Not now. Just...not right now." Spencer turned away from him again as he looked out the window. He watched the wisps of smoke from the cigarette disappear into the air and he wished he could do that. It would be better than the inevitable conversation he knew was about to happen.

But he wasn't a wisp of smoke.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I am so sorry it took so long. Life has been crazy busy but I haven't forgotten this story! Hopefully you all enjoy the new chapter. :)

* * *

_" **They don't know nothing abut redemption. They don't know nothing about recovery. Some people just aren't the type for a marriage and family."**_ -  **Against Me!**

* * *

 

Spencer was still perched on the window ledge and had just flicked the butt of his fifth cigarette out the window. Morgan was sitting on his couch watching him. Morgan’s eyes unnerved him and he felt queasy from the nicotine but he still reached for another. It was what he had for the time being to take the edge off. He couldn’t drink. He couldn’t take an injection. So he smoked. He brought the lighter to to the end of the cigarette as he heard Morgan sigh.

“Really, Reid?” Spencer ignored him, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. “Are you going to chain smoke that entire pack?”

“Maybe.” was his one word reply. Spencer drew his legs up so he could rest his chin on them. He was exhausted but he knew Morgan wouldn’t give up until he offered some type of explanation. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to say. It was rare he didn’t have some quip, rant or statistic to spout. He turned his head to look at Morgan. Again, a knot of guilt started to ball up in his stomach. Morgan looked defeated. Lost, even. He was sitting bent forward, his elbows on his knees with his hands holding his head under his jaw. He kept his eyes down as he spoke.

“I didn’t say anything about...” Morgan paused. “About what was in the drawer. You know, when I called the paramedics. I thought you were dying. I seriously did, Reid. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you fell. The way your head snapped back...I thought...I...I rolled you over, you weren’t breathing.” Spencer picked up on the hitch in the cadence of Morgan’s words.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said, turning back to look out the window. He just kept fucking things up. This day had gone in a completely different direction than he had intended. “I have it under control, though. I just over did it today.”

“This is not under control.” It was a true statement. Spencer took a moment to take a long drag and exhaled slowly.

“You know when you guys found me? When Tobias was laying there dead? I knew the dilaudid was in his pocket. I asked to be alone so I could grab the vials. It was a few days after that when I injected it myself for the first time.” Spencer explained quietly. He couldn’t look at Morgan.

“Reid, why didn’t you say anything? We would have helped you.” This made Spencer screw his eyes shut and shake his head. He stood up, tossed his barely lit cigarette out the window and faced Morgan.

“Really? You all already view me as this fragile being, like I don’t have enough sense to take care of myself. What would have been different if I had said anything? What would I have said?” Spencer could tell he was raising his voice and he watched Morgan stare. “Should I have been all, oh, by the way guys, I can’t stop seeing and hearing the guy that abducted me? Should I have said that every time I close my eyes I see that rat hole of a building I was tied up in? Should I have said that I was shooting up opiates like some screwed up junkie?! Yeah, that would have worked out  _swell_  for me. Look at the genius!  _Look at the stupid genius_!” Spencer stopped and stood quietly then let his arms fall to his sides. He closed his eyes. “I just...I just need it stop for a while. I can’t. I mean, I...”

Spencer could sense Morgan standing in front of him. He tried to control his now rapid breathing and his pounding heart. He didn’t know how to explain it. How he wanted to feel better but he didn’t know how to without the dilaudid. He tried to remember how he had felt happy before Tobias, before his life became about getting high and trying to hide it. He tried to think of a time but he wasn’t sure if there even was. The next thing he knew, he felt Morgan’s arms wrap around him. He felt himself tense and he started to back up to pull away but Morgan released his grip. He opened his eyes expecting to see pity in the other agents eyes but it wasn’t there.

“We would have helped you.” Morgan said again. He paused, looking at the Spencer a moment, then continued “You need help, Reid. This isn’t okay. You’re not okay.”

Spencer huffed a small laugh as he walked toward his couch and sat down in the corner, curling himself into a ball. There were many things Spencer wanted to say in reply but he kept quiet. He didn’t want to tell Morgan because it was a lost cause in his eyes. Spencer hadn’t felt okay in years. He hadn’t felt okay since his father has walked out and left. He hadn’t felt okay since he had to commit his mother. Tobias was just the match in the powder barrel, so to speak. Tobias was what broke him down, opening the flood of feelings he’d worked hard to build a dam for. He didn’t want to sort things out. He didn’t want to talk about the past. He wanted to forget it. He wanted to forget feeling abandoned. Guilty. Ashamed. Out of place. All of it. Spencer had wracked his brain many nights trying to figure out how and then out of the most horrendous situation, he’d been given the answer. Every time he thought about quitting, throwing it out, the tightness and dread in his chest was overwhelming and he knew he could’t. He finally spoke.

“Just go. I’ll be fine.” It was a weak rebuttal but it slipped easily off his tongue. He'd been saying it for a long time and maybe if he kept saying it, it'd be true “I’m sure Hotch needs you at the office.”

“Why is it so hard for you to let anyone in?” Morgan shot back. Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. That struck a nerve.

“Why is it so hard for people to leave me alone? Why does everyone disregard what I tell them?” Spencer brought his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair as Morgan started to walk closer to him.

“Spencer -”

“Just go!” Spencer finally yelled. He jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists out of anger and laying at his sides. "  _Get out!_ " He was done talking. He'd already said too much and he just wanted to be alone. Morgan took a step closer to him.

"I already told you I'm not leaving. I'm not going to walk out of here and let you circle the drain. Whether you believe it or not, I'm your friend and I care. Whether you believe it or not, the team cares. Just because this is a tough situation, I'm not going to just abandon you."

Spencer sat back down on the couch in defeat. He sighed running his hands through his hair trying to gather his thoughts. Every emotion possible was coursing through him, crashing into him like waves. He was angry for even getting into this situation. He was scared to be without his dilaudid. He was sad that he was putting his friends, family really, through this. He felt guilty for yelling at Morgan when all he was trying to do was help. There was a heaviness in his stomach and his head felt fuzzy. Suddenly, it felt like he couldn't get enough air and then he felt the first teardrops fall. He jammed the back of his hand into his eyes, wiping at them, mad he was even crying. The more he tried to get them to stop, the harder they fell. He found himself almost gasping for air as he let a sob escape his mouth. He was aware Morgan had perched himself on the coffee table in front of him.

"I don't know what to do." Spencer said, his voice thick.

"I know."

"I'm scared." He said, the realization finally hitting him and the tears came faster.

"Me too." Morgan said as he reached out to grab the younger agent's hands. " You looks exhausted. Why don't you try to sleep? Do you think you can?"

"I don't know. I don't really sleep unless..." Spencer let his voice trail off and didn't finish the sentence, He hadn't slept without dilaudid in months. He was tired and he wanted to sleep but his mind wouldn't let him. He felt his face screw up and fresh tears drip. It was as if he couldn't stop crying now that he had started. He felt Morgan grab his hands and pull him up and place an arm around him.

"Come on. At least lay down." Spencer nodded and let Morgan guide him to his bedroom. He swallowed down sobs as he took his hooded sweatshirt off and watched as Morgan threw the covers back on his bed. It was unmade but Morgan quickly rearranged the comforter to be somewhat organized and then turned to face him.

"Try to get some sleep and when you wake up, I'll be here and we'll work on figuring this out."

Spencer nodded, slipping into the bed and laid it head on the pillow. He felt like he hadn't slept in years. He felt the covers being pulled up around him and moments later, from sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a review. I love reading your feedback. It's been a hot second since I've updated this one. I plan to try and not let it be months again before I post a new chapter. As always, bring on the angsty drama! :)

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**_"All the young graves filled. Don't the best stars burn out so bright and so fast? Full body high. I'm never coming down. Black me out."_ \- Against Me!**

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The lights were flickering. That was the first thing Spencer became aware of. The lights were flickering and the air around him felt heavy, like a hot day in the midst of summer. He tried to focus on his surroundings and it finally registered that he was sitting in his living room. He was confused, Why there the lights flickering and why was it so hot in here?

"What's going on?" he said lout loud. His words seemed muddled, as if he couldn't completely form them. He went to stand but his limbs felt heavy and clumsy.

"Sit!" The voice was familiar. It sent a cold shiver down his back and his vision narrowed for a moment. How was _he_ here? How did he get into his apartment? Spencer slowly raised his head and he was staring up at Tobias. Or was it Tobias's father? It could have been Raphael. He wouldn't know for sure until he heard more. Spencer's heart was beating uncontrollably in his chest and he could feel the anxiety rising in him as he watched his captor pace in front of him.

"What do you want?" Spencer asked, his voice small and the fear made it waver from audible to barely audible. Tobias laughed, turning and lunging toward Spencer. Spencer staggered back as far as the back of his couch would let him and watched as Tobias's arms reached around him. Tobias balanced himself on the back of the couch so that his face was merely inches from Spencer's. Spencer closed his eyes, waiting...waiting for a blow, to be yelled at, to be hurt but it didn't happen. He sat a moment, the only sound hitting his ears was the ragged rhythm of his own breathing and the calmer breathing of the person in front of him. He was so close that Spencer could feel the small tufts of air cresting across his cheek.

"What do I want?" From the tone, he knew it was Tobias. "What do I _want_?" He repeated, a bitter tone evident. "I wanted to not be killed. You killed me, Spencer. Murdered me. I saved you and you murdered me!" Spencer flinched at the harshness of the words. Tobias had saved him but it wasn't Tobias that had taken him into the woods to dig his own grave. Spencer could feel tears of frustration spring to his eyes.

"I didn't have a choice." He choked out. Spencer's chest was tight and he tried again to get up but his arms were heavy as they made contact with Tobias. It felt like he was moving through molasses and his feeble attempts at pushing the man off him proved to be in vain.

"We all have a choice, Spencer Reid. You had a choice to stay with your agent friend or follow me into the cornfield. You had a choice to confess your sins but you chose not too. Father gave you a way out but still, you didn't choose to confess. If it wasn't for me, your sins would still be buried in your head."

Spencer jerked his face away, trying to escape the words Tobias was yelling into his ears. Every time he moved his head, Tobias followed him.

"You can't escape. You'll never escape." Spencer cringed as he heard Tobias laugh. He tried to keep his eyes focused on Tobias but the form of him began to flicker in and out like static on a television set. Tobias's mantra kept ringing in Spencer's ears as if it was bouncing off the walls and coming at him from all angles. He couldn't take it. He wanted to cover his ears and block out the voice but he couldn't lift his arms.

"Stop." He whimpered, the word catching in his throat. "Stop it." The volume increased and it was almost unbearable. " Stop... _stop_... _ **stop!**_ "

It was then he felt two hands grab his shoulders and shake him. There was still a voice he could hear but it wasn't Tobias.

"Reid, Reid, wake up. C'mon, kid. You're dreaming. Wake up." This voice wasn't taunting him. He became aware of Morgan standing above him. He wasn't in his living room but his own bedroom. The late afternoon sun was coming through the blinds and he felt the movement of air from the ceiling fan above his bed. He felt sweaty and cold all at the same time as he tried to even his breathing to slow his racing heart. It wasn't real. Tobias was dead. He was dreaming.

Spencer kicked the blankets off from his body and flung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. His head was aching as he brought his hand up to run it through his damp hair.

"You okay?" Morgan asked, straightening himself as he stood in front of Spencer. Spencer looked up at him with a dazed expression. His eyes seemed unable to focus.

"What?" He said, confused. He watched Morgan eye him, a concerned look on his face,

"Reid, are you okay? You're shaking." Spencer looked down at his hands and he could see them visibly trembling. He grabbed his thighs to try and steady them. He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry and scratchy.

"Yeah. I'm fine. What time is it?" He asked as he stood up. A wave of nausea hit him and he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath trying to will it away.

"It'a about six o' clock." Morgan replied. Spencer nodded and started to walk out of the room. He'd been asleep long enough for the alcohol and narcotics to wear off. He wanted to find his vial and take another injection. It was often the first thing he thought about when he woke up. This time he didn't have the luxury of hiding away in his apartment alone to get high. This time he had to face Morgan. Spencer knew it was only a matter of hours before withdrawal symptoms would kick in. He had experienced them before. They didn't last long, maybe a couple of hours. He attributed it to the fact that he had been some what controlled about the amount he injected.

Spencer walked out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. He could hear the light foot steps of Morgan following him. The aching in his head synced up to the rhythm of his foot steps as he made his way to the refrigerator. He opened the door and rooted around the sparse items until he found a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, emptying almost half the bottle in one go. He lowered the bottle and stood facing the fridge, his eyes gazing over the magnets and things on the face of it. He had a small calendar on there along with some scattered photos and letters.

"So?" He heard Morgan ask. Spencer sighed.

"So, what?" Spencer replied as he turned around. Morgan was standing near his kitchen table. He hated the awkward silence that filled the space around them.

"So are you ready to talk about this?" Spencer wasn't ready. He just wanted to back pedal and forget this whole day had happened. He wanted Morgan gone so he didn't have to keep revealing parts of himself he wanted no one to ever see. 

"What is there to talk about?" Spencer knew he was avoiding the subject. He watched as Morgan pulled a chair from the table and sat down. It was then Spencer noticed the open laptop.

"I've been researching rehab facilities -"

"Are you kidding me?" Spencer said, his face flushing in embarrassment. He didn't need to be locked away in some facility to talk it out and learn yoga. Unintentionally, he was glaring at Morgan.

"Reid, you've got a problem. This is a problem. There's something going on in that genius head of yours that's causing you to think the only solution is to shoot up pharmaceutical heroin." Morgan said bluntly.

"I am not some junkie, some leach of society. I can take care of this on my own." Spencer shot back, feeling a mixture of horror at Morgan's statement and fear that Morgan might be right.

"Yeah? And how's that been working out for you?" 

"I Just need to control it better. I can control it." Spencer brought the bottle of water back to his lips, suddenly feeling like there was a lump in throat. Morgan stood and walked over to him.

"Like you can control the nightmares? You were screaming in terror in your sleep, Reid. Did you know that?" Morgan asked him, trying to catch his gaze. The sound of Spencer screaming like that made Morgan's stomach drop. He'd been crying out on and off for a few hours but whatever the last nightmare had been about finally pushed Morgan over the edge. He couldn't stand to hear his friend like that anymore and had woken him up. It was clear to Morgan that, between the drugs and mental decline, Spencer was circling the drain and it wouldn't be long before it was more out of control than it already was. He was afraid that if Spencer waited any longer, it would be too late.

"I have nightmares sometimes. It's no big deal." Spencer replied. 

"You don't have to live like this. You don't deserve to live like this, kid but you need to believe that too." Morgan said. He watched Spencer for a moment. Morgan wasn't sure how much and how often he'd been shooting up but after researching dilaudid, he'd realized it was similar to heroin. An opioid that depressed the nervous system. Morgan had delt with plenty of junkies from starting out as a police officer and thinking of Spencer in that situation made his stomach twist in anguish. He could see the start of withdrawal symptoms in Spencer's body language. His hands were trembling, he was pale and had a sheen of sweat across his forehead. His eyes were glassy and it enhanced the exisiting dark circles under them even more. He watched Spencer look toward the living room. He had a feeling he was looking at the drawer where he hid his vials and syringes. 

"Look,Morgan, I'm -"

"Fine? I know. You keep saying that...except you're not." Morgan watched Spencer close his eyes and lean back against the fridge. He looked as tired as Morgan felt. The silence lasted a minute longer before Spencer spoke.

"I'll go to meetings." He said finally. Morgan shook his head. 

"I think it's bigger than just going to meetings, Reid. I think you need more than just, well, just being sober. Being sober doesn't change what happened to you and what it's doing to your mental state. You might need-"

"So I'm crazy now?" Spencer said, his voice rising and his hand involuntarily squeezing the bottle of water which produced a loud crackling sound which startled both him and Morgan.

"That's not what I meant." Morgan replied, putting his hands up. Spencer scoffed and threw the water bottle onto his counter. It bounced off the wall and spun a bit before sliding into the sink. Spencer stalked past Morgan into the living room. Morgan turned on his heels and followed him.

"Then what did you mean by my mental state? There really is only one conclusion to that statement." Spencer half shouted, his voice rising to an almost feverish squeak. Spencer was walking in circles around his furniture, his arms crossed and wrapped around his mid section.

"You were abducted. That would mess with anyone's head." Morgan tried to explain. The last thing he wanted was to push Spencer farther away. It was like anything he said was wrong and it was just making Spencer more upset. 

"Right. Right. Which is why everyone who runs into some difficult situation working for the bureau winds up a mess like me?" Spencer spit out, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He stopped pacing around and had planted himself on the couch. His skin was starting to crawl. He knew it was just the nerve sensors firing off and it would pass but the sensation of things crawling on his skin was unnerving. His eyes scanned the room. The whiskey was gone from sight as were the pack of cigarettes. He had to use every ounce of will power not to fling the drawer to the side table open to see if his vials were still there. They probably weren't but he still wanted to check. 

This wasn't the position Spencer wanted to be in. His stomach was turning and the crawling sensation was intensifying. He grabbed his hood and put up over his head, pulling it down to cover his eyes. He tucked his hands inside the arms of his sweatshirt and once again crossed his arms over himself and leaned forward so he was resting parallel on his thighs. He hung his head and tried to take slow breaths in to calm his stomach. He felt cold and tried to keep himself from shivering. He was aware of Morgan kneeling in front of him.

"You're going through withdrawal." Morgan told him gently, placing a hand on Spencer's back.

"Shut up. Just shut up and go away." Spencer mumbled, keeping himself in the same position. He waited for Morgan to reply but silence was the only response. He lifted his head and stared at Morgan. "Go away. Get out. Just leave me alone." Spencer said in a short, punctuated tone. He was done listening. 

"So that's it? You're going to piss away your career, your brilliance, on drugs?" For some reason this struck Spencer as funny. He laughed, which he then regretted because it made his stomach turn even worse.

"My _brilliance_? Dr. Spencer Reid, brilliant agent who gets himself kidnapped by a deranged murderer because he was brilliant enough to split up from his partner. " Spencer curled his lips into a half smile. Spencer realized he probably looked crazy. After all, he was in rumpled pajama pants and had his hood pulled up. He was intermittently shaking and every so often the nausea hit him and caused him to stifle a dry heave. "Why are you still here? Why are you even bothering? If I'm the brilliant one, then why do I need you? Why do I need the bureau? I don't."

"Fine, you want to destroy yourself? Everything is still in the drawer. Go ahead. Apparently nothing I say is going to get you to change your mind." Moragn told him evenly as he rocked himself back onto his heels and stood. He watched Spencer's head immediately turn in the direction of the side table. It was like a movie reel of thoughts played across the younger agent's features. Fear, desire, doubt, anger, sadness. Finally, Spencer stood, walked past Morgan and opened the drawer. The vial was still there along with the syringes. Spencer took in a sharp breath. He wanted it. He wanted to not feel. He reached into the drawer and grabbed the items, holding the vial in one hand and the syringe in the other.

His life had come to this. It had come down to an uncontrollable urge to not feel anything. He could feel Morgan's eyes on him. He lifted his knee and used it to shut the drawer, keeping his eyes on his hands and what they held. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and turned to walk away.

"If you don't care, then do it here. If you don't care and you don't need me or anyone else, then shoot up here." Spencer stopped mid step.

"What?"

"If this is what you want then why are you hiding?" Morgan asked taking a seat at one end of the couch. Spencer turned around, making his way back to the couch. He sat down next to Morgan. He leaned forward and pulled the coffee table closer to him. He set the vial and syringe down and turned to look at Morgan.

"Fine. If that's what you want, then fine. You've already been watching the decline of Dr. Reid with a front row seat for the last few months. I'll put on a finale." Spencer leaned forward and began to fill the syringe from the vial. His body felt on fire with the anticipation. He wanted it so bad it almost made him forget one of his most trusted friends was sitting next to him watching the train wreck. His senses were hypersensitive. Every breath he took, the sound of his fingers tapping the barrel and the sound of the vial hitting the coffee table were amplified.

Spencer turned to face Morgan. He couldn't read his face and Morgan gave him no clues by staying silent. Spencer pushed the sleeve of his sweatshirt up and revealed the older track marks, red and angry against his pale skin. There were delicate bruises around of some of them. He had taken his watch off earlier but this didn't slow him down. He wrapped the string from his hood a few times above his wrist and used his teeth to pull it taunt. As the veins bulged, he lined up the needed and almost artfully drove it into one of the them. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled the plunger back to make sure it drew blood. Once he knew the syringe was in position, he brought his eyes up to meet Morgan's. He didn't break eye contact as he pushed the plunger down.

The familiar warmth spread across him as he pulled the syringe out and threw it on the floor. He could feel his eyelids drooping. The nausea was starting to subside as well as the crawling sensation. The numbness was taking over.

"Are you happy now?" Spencer asked, trying to keep his eyes open. Through clouded vision he could see the pained expression on Morgan's face. "Don't be sad." Spencer mumbled, his head nodding. "I'm not anymore."

"Spencer..."

"Hmm?" Spencer replied, sliding his way to a horizontal position on the couch. He rested his head on his arm, next to Morgan's thigh. Spencer felt Morgan's hand on his shoulder and the hitched sound of Morgan's breathing. "It's okay Morgan. I don't feel anymore."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the bookmarks, kudos and comments. I hope you all will enjoy the next installment.

* * *

**_"It's not the drugs that make a drug addict. It's the need to escape reality."_ \- Unknown**

* * *

 

Morgan's body felt stiff and tired as he watched Spencer. The younger man had fallen asleep, well...passed out would have been a more accurate description, on the couch. Spencer's arm was curled up under his head, which rested in the crook. His other hand was hanging over the edge. He'd dropped the syringe onto the floor after his fingers had relaxed from the dilaudid taking effect.

Morgan ran his hand down his own face. This was worse than he had originally thought. He didn't think Spencer would actually shoot up in front of him. He thought outright calling him out would get him to take a step back and at least sit down for a discussion. He hadn't been mentally prepared. He froze as Spencer had prepared a syringe with the narcotic and injected it within a minute. 

Spencer needed rehab.

The words felt foreign and wrong as they crossed Morgan's mind. The possibility had come up in conversations between himself and Gideon but Morgan still had a sliver of hope that they were all wrong with their assumptions. It was the last conversation between the team that had Morgan's senses on high before he had come to check on Spencer.

* * *

The team, except for Spencer and Hotch, had met at a small Thai restaurant they liked to frequent after cases. Instead of the normal chatter to lighten their moods after a trip away, they were staring silently at each over the containers of food that were scattered across the table.

Gideon informed the team that Hotch had filed for leave for Spencer and did not want to know, for reporting purposes, what happened during that time off. Gideon then said what everyone had been thinking in the back of their minds for the last couple of months. JJ looked close to tears as she looked from Gideon to Emily.

"Are you sure?" She asked, the disbelief bubbling up in her soft voice. Emily sighed audibly.

"It _would_ make sense." She said carefully, looking from JJ to Garcia. Garcia's face mirrored JJ's.

"Reid hasn't resembled his statistic spouting self in a long time but, drugs? I'm with JJ. Are you sure?" She added, squinting behind her bright pink glasses, as she used a sparkly blue manicured finger to push them up the bridge of her nose.

"He all but admitted it to me." Gideon stated in a matter of fact tone. Gideon looked to Morgan. "I think we need to look into checking him into a facility. Between his behavior and diminished emotional state, it might be past the mark for novice intervention."

"How will we keep this under Strauss's radar?" Emily asked, twirling her noddles around her plate with her chopsticks. "If his insurance is run, she'll know almost immediately. Hell, if his social is run, she'd know."

"We won't make him use his insurance." Gideon said, tilting his head to the side. The rest of the team looked at him quizzically. "I have a bit of a savings and an old friend of mine offered to help. Let's just say him and I go way back. He knows first hand what a number this job can have on a person. Now, as far as running personal information, there must be a way to make that disappear from the system. If only we knew some type of skilled computer hacker..." Gideon let his voice trail off and four pairs of eyes turned to face Garcia.

"Copy that, wise leader. Let me wave my talented technical digits over my crystal ball of dark hacker magic and as Dr. Picard requests often, I will make it so."

"I was hoping I'd hear something to that effect." Gideon said, his mouth curling into a half smile. "Now that leaves the messenger."

"The messenger?" JJ asked. 

"Yes. The person who's going to convince Reid to get some help." 

The five agents stayed quiet a moment as they looked at each other. Finally, JJ broke the silence.

"It should be you, Derek." Morgan's head snapped over to look at JJ. He knew he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for most of this conversation.

" _Me_? Why me?" he questioned, shifting his gaze from JJ to Gideon. "We all know the kid looks up to you, Gideon. You should do it."

"Yes but who does he go to before talking to me?" Gideon said, making eye contact with Morgan. It was true. When Spencer had first started having nightmares, it was Morgan that he'd broached the subject with first. When he was having a hard time with his first case after the abduction, it was Morgan who had gotten the truth out of him on the jet. Morgan stared down at his plate, contemplating.

"Okay." He said simply. He looked up, his eyes scanning over his coworkers. "And if he says no?" Gideon responded first.

"If he does....then we keep asking until he goes. "

* * *

 And now Morgan was here. Sitting in Spencer's apartment no closer to helping him than when he had arrived. Morgan looked down to his pocket as he felt his phone vibrate. He retrieved it and looked at the message on the screen. It was from Gideon,

 _How's it going? Has he agreed to go?_  Morgan shook his head as he typed out his response.

_I've barely been able to bring it up. This isn't going well. He's high and he's passed out._

_Give us twenty minutes._

_All right. The door is unlocked._

Morgan locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket, He felt Spencer shift beside him and he turned to look at him.

"Who was that?" Spencer mumbled, kicking his legs out to stretch them.

"Gideon." Morgan told him as he watched Spencer slowly push himself up into a sitting position. He watched him as he shut his eyes tight, as if the act of sitting up was too painful to bear, before letting his face go slack. Spencer turned to look at Morgan and he could see that Spencer's eyes were dilated. He was still high.

"What did he want?" The words were soft and almost emotionless.

"He had a question about a consult he's working on." Morgan said without missing a beat. Spencer laughed then leaned forward to grab the syringe from the floor where he'd spotted it moments before. He knew he should feel bad about shooting up in front of Morgan but he just didn't care. He went about refilling the syringe ignoring the fact that Morgan was even there.

"You know you move your lips while you text?" Spencer said, as he was tapping out the bubbles.

"W-what?" Morgan stuttered, surprised at the statement. Spencer cast a sideways glance at him, curling one side of his mouth up into a smirk.

"If I have to sit through an intervention, I am going to at least make it bearable. I figure I've got about ten minutes before the rest of the team is at my door. I should be surprised but I guess I knew it was coming. We're all profilers. Do you know what I mean?"  By the end of the sentence, Spencer was ready to inject his, well if he was being honest, fourth dose of dilaudid of the day but it was ripped from his hand from Morgan.

"Stop!" Morgan's voice was filled with frustration as Spencer made a feeble attempt to reclaim his syringe.

"What the fuck, man? Give it back! If I'm going to sit and listen to everything, I'm going to be numb while I do it."  
"You're killing yourself."

"If I wanted to do that, then I'd use my gun. Much quicker. Maybe I'd even play a little roulette for old times' sake. You know...it's God's will"

"Reid..."

"Or maybe I should just inject a barrel full of air. An air embolism wouldn't be a bad way to go. Although, it would have to be done with a much larger syringe if I wanted to be successful on the first try. It's actually some what common for air to accidentally get into the blood circulation during events such as surgical procedures but because it is stopped at the lungs it-"

"Reid!" The sharp sound of Morgan yelling his name stopped him mid ramble. Spencer looked at Morgan and was about to start in again when his apartment door opened. Both agents turned to look. Morgan's face flooded with relief as Gideon and Emily walked into the apartment and Spencer's face twisted with embarrassment despite himself. It was one thing to be candid with Morgan, who seemed to pull things out of him with ease but it was another to let the rest of the team see him like this. He used the moment of distraction to grab the full syringe from Morgan and stuff it into his sweatshirt pocket.

Spencer watched as Gideon and Emily made their way to his living room. He saw the silent exchange between Morgan and Gideon as Emily sat in the arm chair adjacent to the couch, and effectively blocking the exit to the apartment, while Gideon took a seat on the other side of him so Spencer was sandwiched between him and Morgan. There was an almost electric vibe of nervous energy in the room. It made Spencer bounce his legs as he shifted his gaze from Emily to Gideon and finally to Morgan. He wondered where Garcia and JJ were but was glad that more people weren't in the room. He rarely had company and even having these few people in his home was filling him with uneasiness.

"Spencer, how are you feeling today?" Gideon started, his voice even and his face neutral. Gideon could feel Spencer fidgeting next to him as he watched his eyes dart nervously from each agent to the next. It was reminiscent of a small child being caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar. He inhaled slowly as he waited for a response. Spencer remained silent, alternating between wringing his hands then trying to calm them by gripping his thighs.

"Reid?" Emily's voice was soft as she leaned forward trying to make eye contact with him. He ignored her questioning tone as he tried to get his thoughts in order. His mind was spinning like a Rolodex trying to come up with a response. He wanted to just give in, to accept the help but a stronger part of him wanted to seek safety in his room and to inject the syringe that he had store in his pocket. One part of him knew he was hurting his colleagues, friends really, the only real friends he had ever had but he couldn't see how to get through this.

"Can you just give me a minute?" Spencer said, as he started to rise from his seat. Morgan quickly reached up and laid a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down to a sitting position. Spencer turned and cast an irritated look at him.

"Just sit and listen, okay?" Morgan told him, knowing if he let him leave the room he would shoot up.

"I'm not going. I already told Morgan I'm not going to any rehabilitation facility. I will go to meetings. I will figure this out on my own. I don't need your help. Thank you for coming here. I appreciate it, I really do but it's not necessary. I have four weeks to start making a change and tomorrow I plan on-"

"Except tomorrow will become the next day and then the next day is next week. Spencer, logically, you know the pattern of addicts." Gideon said as he shifted in his seat. "This will end one of two ways, either you decide to get some treatment or-"

"I wind up dead?" Spencer finished Gideon's sentence, mumbling down into his hands so that his response was barely audible.

"Yes, or you wind up dead." He confirmed. Spencer sighed as Gideon continued. "No one is mad. Not one of us are judging you. Will you at least listen to what we have to say?"

"Fine. I'll listen but I need to use the bathroom first." Spencer said, purposely not looking at Morgan as he stood. Morgan opened his mouth to protest but Gideon held his hand up.

"All right. We'll be here." The three other agents watched as Spencer stood and made his way quickly down the hall to the bathroom.

"Gideon, he's going to get high." Morgan said in a hushed tone. Emily looked between the two men.

"I don't think he'd try that with us here." She said hesitantly. She still wanted to give Spencer the benefit of the doubt even though they were sitting here, intervention style, to try and convince him to seek treatment.

"Emily, you haven't seen him over the last few hours. The kid's a complete mess. This is way past what we thought our worst case scenario was. I mean, I got here and he'd downed almost a fifth of liquor with a dilaudid chaser."

"Are you serious?" She asked, her eyes going wide. She'd barely seen Spencer drink let alone consume enough alcohol to be intoxicated. 

"He's an addict." Gideon stated. "If we're lucky, he'll be high enough to let us convince him rehab is the answer to his problem. If we're not, he'd still be high."

"I hope you're right." Morgan replied. The three turned to face the hallway as they heard the bathroom door open. Spencer was using the wall as a mean to steady himself as he made his way back into the living room. The glazed look in his eyes was noticeable to everyone and they watched as he stumbled a bit and tried to hide it as he sat down.

"Okay." Spencer told them as he stared straight ahead trying to look through them rather than at them. His body felt weightless and he used the sound of his own breathing to quell his nervousness. In and out. In and out. He waited for one of them to speak.

"I'll cut to the chase." Gideon began. "We've arranged for a spot at a treatment center for you. It's in Alexandria. Twenty-eight days in patient treatment. You'll have a safe detox and whatever it is that you need to work through, they can help."

"I can't. Once they take my information, it'll send up a red flag." Spencer countered.

"We've got that covered, Reid. Garcia will make sure it doesn't." Emily told him.

"Garcia know's about this?" Spencer said, an edge evident in his voice. "Does anyone not know about this?"

"It's not like that, kid. We've all noticed something hasn't been okay with you for awhile." Morgan told him. Spencer ran his hand through his hair nervously as he began to tap his foot.

"This sounds expensive. I won't be able to afford it."

"It's taken care of, Spencer." Gideon told him. "You just need to say yes."

"I can't accept that."

"You can." Gideon said.

"Please, Reid? You can't keep going like this. We need you. This team needs you." Emily told him. "Will you go?"

"What about-"

"Please go, Pretty Boy. You don't need to worry about anything else." Morgan interrupted.

"Spencer?" Gideon's voice hit him. 

"Reid?" Then Emily's.

"Please, kid." and finally Morgan. Spencer's mind was reeling between relief that there could be a solution to this and terror at the thought of detoxing and feeling every thought and emotion sober. He closed his eyes.

"Yes." He said quietly."I'll go."

It was Morgan whose arms wrapped around him first then he felt Emily and finally Gideon's hand on his shoulder. He didn't know where else to start but with yes. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

**_"When everything seems like an uphill battle, just think of the view from the top."_ \- Unknown**

* * *

 

**Day 0**

Spencer had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs of his apartment building. His stomach turned with anxiety as his feet made contact with each stair. Gideon and Emily were going through his apartment and removing every vial, every syringe and any alcohol they could locate. He knew they'd have a decent amount to dispose of when they were done which made his cheeks redden slightly at the thought of it.

  
The cool air hit Spencer's face as he and Morgan walked out the front door. The sun was setting and the sky was mixed with dark blue and the last few rays of sun. He followed Morgan down the street and stopped in front of Morgan's SUV. The sound of the power locks chirping filled the air.

"You ready?" Morgan asked him as he opened the door to the back seat, grabbed the duffel bag from Spencer and loaded it into the vehicle. Spencer nodded as he opened the passenger door.

"Yeah. I think so." He said quietly as he slid into the seat. That was good enough for Morgan, who quickly jogged around the front to get to the driver's side as if not getting there quick enough would give Spencer enough time to change his mind and run.

Morgan started the car and pulled away from the curb. It was going to be about a thirty minute drive to the treatment center, The car was silent as he merged onto the freeway. The only sound that filled the space was the whooshing of the air at the windows and the rumbling of the tires against the pavement. Morgan had been too tense to bother with the radio and Spencer hasn't made an effort either.The headlights of the other cars cast their faces in a glow every so often and finally Spencer turned to Morgan and spoke.

"What if I can't do this?" His voice sounded small and watery and Morgan could tell he was on the verge of tears. A pang of sadness hit him. He hated watching his friend suffer like this.

"Reid, you can do this. All you have to do is try. You are the most stubborn person I know."

Spencer sighed, doubt starting to fill his head. He hated failing and he used every resource he knew to avoid it. It usually worked for him but this, this he wasn't so sure about. He was thankful the car ride was short and it seemed like only minutes before they were pulling into a circular drive way in front of what looked like a welcoming colonial style home. Amber lights glowed through the windows and clearer light illuminated the sign out front.

_Arrowhead Center: A Place for Healing_

Spencer almost laughed at the name. A place for healing? He'd see, he guessed. He opened the door and walked up with Morgan to the front entrance where he was greeted by a short, curvy woman and a tall older man. The older man extended his hand to Spencer as he spoke.

"Hi Spencer. Welcome to Arrowhead. My name is Jordan and this is Callie. We'll be checking you in."

Spencer nodded but stayed silent, shifting his eyes from Callie to Jordan and finally to Morgan. Jordan gestured for Morgan to hand him the duffel back and Morgan obliged.

"Well, kid. This is it." Morgan said to Spencer. Spencer kicked the ground with the toe of his sneaker, jamming his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. This was _it_. This was the start of thirty days without dilaudid. Thirty days having to deal with everything sober. Spencer looked up and Morgan could see the terrified look in the younger man's eyes.

"Derek..." Spencer started but Morgan cut him off by wrapping his in a fierce hug.

"You can do this, Spencer. I know it. You've got all of us on your side, kid. Don't be scared. You've got this." Morgan said as he felt Spencer shake and could tell that he was nodding as Morgan spoke. Morgan pulled back, gave Spencer one more smile of encouragement and turned to walk back to his vehicle. He's already been told he wouldn't be able to stay during the intake process. It was something Spencer had to do on his own.

Spencer watched as Morgan got into the SUV and after a moment, pulled down the drive. He watched until the tail lights were small and then non-existent. It was real now. He was here and Morgan was gone and he had nothing left to do but to follow the two people who grabbed each arm and gently guided him through the front door.

The foyer was well lite with dark blue walls and wainscoting lining the bottom. There were silver letters painted onto the wall and Spencer realized it was a passage. _God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference._ Spencer stood, staring at the painted words, trying to process them.

"It's the Serenity Prayer." Jordan said, his hand at Spencer's elbow. "It'll make more sense once you start to work the program."

"Spencer, we're going to need to get some medical information on you, okay?" Now it was Callie talking to him. He was being led to a small examination room off of the main foyer. Callie motioned for him to take a seat and he did. Spencer sat quietly as Callie took his blood pressure, pulse and temperature. Jordan was asking him questions in between.

"When was the last time you used?" He asked, looking up from a clipboard. Spencer stared up at the clock that hung on the wall. The second hand making soft clicks as it moved. It was about eight o' clock.

" A few hours, I don't exactly know." He replied quietly. Jordan marked something on the clipboard.

"What have you been using and for how long?" Jordan asked him. Spencer swallowed trying to get past the lump in his throat. This was quite the blow to his ego. he was sitting in a rehab facility, a nurse taking his vitals and being asked questions he barely admitted the answers to himself.

"Dilaudid." Spencer said quietly. "I, uh, well, I take an injection at least two times a day. That's been going on for seven months? Today was a little worse than others."

"Are you taking any medications? Any medical history, physical or mental, that we should know about?" That question threw Spencer. Should he mention anything about his schizophrenic mother? It was a sore subject for him even on the best of days and this was definitely not the best of days. Spencer just shook his head.

Jordan nodded in response. He looked at Callie and she started rattling off some information and Jordan recorded it on his clipboard. Callie spoke fast but he could piece together that his blood pressure was low, his temperature a little high along with his pulse.

"Most importantly Spencer, why did you seek treatment for your addiction today?" Jordan put his pen down on the clipboard and looked expectantly at Spencer.

"That's a loaded question." Spencer said automatically, not thinking about it before saying it. Jordan laughed a bit.

"Yes, it is but it's important. There's not a wrong answer. we're looking to get an idea of your expectation of treatment."

"I was asked to leave my job today." He began quietly. "I thought I was hiding it but I guess I wasn't. My coworkers, well, friends, asked me and I said yes. I'm tired. I can't do it it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore but I don't know how. I'm hoping I can learn how...here."

"That's what we do here." Jordan said kindly. He flipped to the last page of the clipboard and handed it over to Spencer. "This is the consent for treatment. I will need you to sign it. Basically, it is saying you are signing yourself in for thirty days of treatment, which we may recommend more depending on your progress, that you will follow the facility rules and remain drug and alcohol free while staying here."

Spencer took the clipboard and read through the agreement. He picked up the pen and before he could think twice about it, signed his name. Jordan took the clipboard and motioned for him to stand up.

"Are you familiar with the detox process?" Callie asked him as they walked out of the examination room and down hallway. Spencer logically knew what would happen as his body withdrew from the narcotic but he'd only experiences what he thought were mild symptoms.

"I think so." He said as the three turned a corner.

" As the drug leaves your system, you'll start to experience symptoms. It's different for everybody but it usually starts about six to twelve hours after the last time you used. For opiates, you could experience shaking, nausea, sweating then later on stomach cramping, it could feel like your skin is crawling. You'll probably throw up at least once during this whole process. The good news is that it only lasts a few days. Once your detox is over, you'll start therapy."

"O-Okay." Spencer stammered when they stopped in front of a door.

"All right, we'll need to go through your duffel bag to make sure you don't have anything you're not supposed to and I'm afraid I need to do a pat down to make sure as well. Before you go in, is anything you'd like to grab? There's a television in there along with some magazines. You should have your bag in an hour or so, just so you have a time frame."

Spencer took the bag from Jordan and opened the zipper, he grabbed a book, re-zipped the bag and handed it back. He watched Jordan take the book and flip through it's pages before handing it to him. A few pats later, Jordan opened the door to a room with two twin beds. The room was a pale brown with dark brown trim along the top of the walls. Some woodsy looking art hung alone the walls. There was a night stand next to each bed with a lamp on it. There was a large divided dresser at the foot with a television set perched on top of it. A couple of magazines littered the top as well.

"Make yourself at home" Callie told him as walked toward one of the beds and tentatively sat down. "You don't have a roommate now but that might change. Someone will be back with your bag and one of our medical staff will be by to check on you periodically thorough out the night. In the morning, if you're up to it you can come down to the dining hall for breakfast but if not, we have some small things we can bring to you. Any questions?"

"The bathroom?" Spencer asked. Callie nodded.

"The door over there." She said pointing to an oak door that was closed.

"Thank you." He said as Callie and Jordan left he room and closed the door quietly behind them. Spencer sighed as he brought his legs up to the bed and stretched out on top of the comforter. He was glad Morgan had talked him into just wearing pajamas in here. He was tired and didn't think he had the energy to change even if he'd wanted too. The silence seemed to fill the room as he waited for something to happen. He knew that he wouldn't start ti feel anything for probably at least a few more hours but his senses were on high alert. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and before he knew it, he was asleep.

**Day 2**

Spencer gripped the comforter wrapping it tighter around him as his teeth chattered, It was like he couldn't get warm. The literature he'd read about detoxifying from drugs hadn't been lying when they said it, essentially, really sucked. The withdrawal symptoms had really started to pick up early in the morning. They'd been mild at first. He'd had a headache most of the day yesterday. A wave of nausea would hit him every so often but nothing like this. The digital clock on the night stand told him was around four in the afternoon.

He'd spent the last hour alternating from shivering to the point where he couldn't stop shaking to doubling over in pain from stomach cramps. Callie had called it, he'd thrown up that day as well. His body hurt from the constant movement and he wondered why he had agreed to do this in the first place. He could be home right now, not feeling like he was going to die but he'd chosen this hell for himself. His stomach turned violently and he flung the covers from his body the best he could and stumbled toward the bathroom. He hadn't eaten much except for some crackers the day before but he still made his way to the bathroom just in case.

He sunk to the tiled floor, the jolt from his knees hitting the tiles sent pain vibrating throughout his body. His hair hung damply in his face as he felt the first heave wrack his body. Nothing came up but he couldn't stop the dry heaves. Finally, he could taste bile in his mouth and he spit into the toilet to get rid of it.

"Spencer?" A voice called from the main room. It was Callie.

"I'm in here." He called out weakly as the shivering commenced once again. He feebly stood and flushed the toilet and made his way to the sink to rinse his mouth and wash his hands. he heard the bathroom door creak open.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. Spencer wiped his hands on the towel in front of him and turned to her.

"I've been better." He said. He tried to stop the shaking but couldn't. Callie grabbed his arm and helped him walk back over to his bed. He saw the small medical cart in the room and knew she was there to do a vital check. e sat quietly as she took his blood pressure and temperature. After she notated it in the chart, she reached over to the night stand and handed him a bottle of water.

"Do you think you can drink this? It's important that you don't get dehydrated."

"I'll try." he grabbed the bottle from her and took a sip. A little spilled from the top due to his shaking hands. A moment later, he took another sip. he closed his eyes waiting for the nausea to hit but to his surprise it didn't. He took another drink as he registered how dry his mouth was and that he in fact, was actually thirsty.

"Take it a little slower." Callie urged as she took the bottle from Spencer's hands and set it back on the nightstand within reach of him. Spencer slowly slid down back into the bad and pulled the blankets back over him. His skin was starting to crawl and he had to concentrate to not scratch at the imaginary things crawling all over him.

"How much longer?" He asked tiredly. Callie sighed.

"Not much longer. Maybe a day or so. You're almost through this part. Hang in there."

Spencer nodded as Callie grabbed her cart and wheeled it out of the room.

**Day 10**

Spencer sat opposite his counselor, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes glued to the floor. He had been sober for ten days. He hadn't thought it was possible but here he was. It wasn't like he still didn't want the drugs but being in a controlled environment helped. He wanted to stay a little longer but the nagging feeling of wanting to go home kept digging at his core.

"Spencer, you've only been here ten days. It's a good start. A really good start but you're not ready to leave yet. We've just started to discuss the effects your abduction had on you."

Spencer pursed his lips together. His counselors name was Stephen. Stephen was all right but Spencer really had no intention of discussing Tobias Hankel with anyone, let alone a stranger. Everything he'd told Stephen had to be pried from him. He still felt weak when it came to Tobias. He still felt guilty. He knew these were the types of things he should be telling his counselor but every time he tried, it sounded so pathetic to him.

" I think I really just needed the push to be clean for a few days. I never want to experience withdrawal like that again. I think I'd fare much better at home or back at work." Spencer told him. Stephen smiled.

"Are you ready to deal with your urges to use with a positive outlet? What about triggers? You know, when you happen to have a nightmare about your abductor. Are you ready to deal with those stressors in a healthy manner?" Stephen asked him as he leaned forward in his chair. Spencer unfolded his hands.

"I have a better understanding now. I know I won't reach for a vial of dilaudid and a needle."

"At least stay the remaining twenty days of your commitment. What harm could it do?"

"I'd really like to go home."

"You know I can't recommend that but I can't stop you."

"I know."

**Day 11**

Spencer smiled as he returned the signed forms to the receptionist at the desk. He had a hard time putting it into words but he couldn't stay here. He couldn't talk about Tobias. He couldn't talk about the nightmares but he knew he could live and not turn to dilaudid.

He turned from the front desk and walked out the doors into the morning. A cab was waiting for him and he opened the door and slid into the back seat. He told the driver his destination and the cab started with a jolt. He watched the building slip from sight. He had eleven days. He wanted more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. I'm playing with the idea of ending it here but there is so much more twisty stuff I can do to Reid, haha. I'll decide soon. :)


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